


Planes, Trains, and Mystery Mobiles

by shinealightonme



Category: Psych
Genre: Banter, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Public Transportation, Road Trips, canon typical lack of plot, the futility of man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can't believe you got us placed on the No Fly list, Shawn."</p><p>"I don't know, I don't find it that hard to believe, it seems pretty characteristic of me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planes, Trains, and Mystery Mobiles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perdiccas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this, perdiccas! I couldn't quite make a casefic work, but I hope you enjoy this silly little ditty all the same.

"This never would have happened if we'd gotten to the airport _on time_ ," Gus complained.

"We were totally on time!" Shawn argued. "The flight was at eight o'clock, and we got here at eight. Frankly I don't see how this could be construed as our fault."

" _Your_ fault, Shawn. You're supposed to get to the airport three hours early. Everyone knows that."

"Gus, don't be the re-branding of the Scifi Channel." Gus did, grudgingly, shrug in agreement with that sentiment. "When have you ever known me to be three hours early to anything?"

Gus just turned away from Shawn to look forward in line again, which was a classic _not having a rebuttal and refusing to admit it_ move. Shawn grinned victoriously, which made him the only person in the stand by line, and possibly in the entire airport, who was smiling.

With Gus refusing to talk to him, Shawn made his own fun by observing other passengers. The business suit and receding hairline charging his phone by the window was fiddling with his wedding ring -- going back home to the wife he's just cheated on, maybe. The coed who needed a touch up on her roots was arguing quietly on the phone in a language that wasn't English, if Shawn's lip reading was worth anything. Mother of three was taking a toy away from the two older children, a 'if you can't share it then no one gets it' tactic that Shawn knew depressingly well. Man, airports were awful. Shawn couldn't imagine why Gus wanted him to spend _more_ time here.

He turned his gaze toward the man one counter over -- 

\-- and frowned, tilted his head, and squinted his eyes.

"Next," the attendant in front of them called.

"Yes, hello, I'm Burton Guster and this is Shawn Spencer, we missed our flight to San Francisco and we need to get on the next one," Gus said in one long breath.

The attendant nodded and started typing something in her computer. "Okay, let me see what -- "

"Where is that plane going?" Shawn asked, pointing to the next counter.

"Um." The attendant blinked at him, thrown off by the change in topic. "Juneau."

"Ah." Shawn nodded sagely. "Indiana."

"Alaska," Gus corrected.

"I believe there is also a Juneau, Indiana."

"There isn't."

"You can't prove a negative, Gus."

Gus turned his back on Shawn again, addressing the confused attendant. "Ignore him. We just need to get on the next flight to San Francisco."

"How much more would it be to get on that specific flight to Juneau?"

"We are not going to Alaska, Shawn."

"Why not?"

"One, because we are going home. Two, because I am not prepared for international travel. Three, Juliet is -- "

"International travel, what are you giving me with the international travel. Alaska is part of the United States." Shawn paused, and added _sotto voce_ , "it is part of the United States, right?"

"You are unreal right now."

"Come on, just tell me I'm right. You love telling me I'm right."

"No, I don't."

"One of the ol' sixty states."

"America has fifty states and sixteen territories and you knew that, Shawn."

"I most certainly did _not_ know that America had sixteen territories. Now I need to forget that to make room for important information. Like that guy. Who's that guy that said that?"

"That was Sherlock Holmes."

"See, you made me forget Sherlock Holmes, just imagine how ridiculous I'd look at the next detectives convention."

"There is no detectives convention."

"And Alaska is not international travel."

"You have to fly over Canada to get there."

"And you say _I'm_ unreal right now?" Shawn looked back at the by-now-dazed attendant. "Two tickets to Juneau, please."

"He means, two seats on the next flight to San Francisco."

"Why don't the two of you step out of line until you've figured this out?" the attendant asked them. Shawn couldn't really blame her.

"This had better be good," Gus grumbled as the customer in line behind them stepped up to the counter. "Why are you wasting my time with this Juneau nonsense?"

"I have always wanted to see the Great Frozen north. Eskimos, polar bears, the Aurora Boris Yeltsin."

"Uh-huh." Gus crossed his arms. He did not look even remotely convinced.

"Come on, don't you want to have an adventure? Live on the edge, take every day as it comes -- "

"I _want_ to be home by Friday."

"Dude, that still gives us like ten days!"

"It's Saturday."

"Eight days?"

Gus glared at him. "We are not going to Juneau."

"Is this about your weird fear of Michael Cera? Because I'm pretty sure they didn't name the city after that movie and even if they did, that doesn't mean he lives there."

"I am not afraid of Michael Cera, I just think he's weird looking, and that's a perfectly valid opinion to have."

"So you _didn't_ scream like a little girl when I put a Michael Cera cardboard cutout in your bathroom."

"I yelled because you were breaking into my apartment -- " Gus cut himself off. "Stop distracting me, Shawn. We are going back to San Francisco unless you can give me one good reason why you want to go to Juneau. One _real_ reason."

Shawn sighed. "I don't care about Juneau either way. I just want to get on that flight."

"Why?"

"Because, I think one of the passengers on that flight is planning to murder his wife."

"Oh my God," Gus said, disgusted. "You're trying to get a case? Right now?"

"You should have just let me lie to you! You're so much happier when you let me lie to you!"

"I told you when we planned this trip that I had to be home by Friday, and I am going to be home by Friday."

"What's the point of making your own hours if you don't take time off for spontaneous adventures? Also, I think it's very uncharitable of you to not want to save this poor woman's life."

"If you want to save her life, tell the police."

"I don't have any proof," Shawn said. "I need the proof, then we can tell the police. But if we just let them get on that plane and fly off to Montana -- "

"Alaska."

" -- and we don't do anything, than we're responsible if something happens to her."

Gus stared at Shawn for a long moment. "We don't actually have to stay in Juneau, right? We just have to fly there and we'll get our evidence?"

Shawn immediately brightened. "Yes, that is my Wild and Crazy Guster!"

"And whatever happens, we're going to be home by Friday?"

"You're getting less wild and crazy by the second," Shawn said, then whirled around and slapped the desk just in front of the attendant, who jumped a mile. "Two tickets to Juneau!"

"Hey, buddy, we're in the middle of something," the customer she was currently helping said.

"Yes, you're in the middle of ruining my moment."

Gus punched Shawn in the arm. "Don't make a scene. If we're going to do this, we're going to be civilized about it. Or I'm going to change my mind."

"Come on, Gus," Shawn scoffed. "What's the worst that could happen?"

-

"I can't believe you got us placed on the No Fly list, Shawn."

"I don't know, I don't find it that hard to believe, it seems pretty characteristic of me."

Gus glared at Shawn for a long minute before walking purposefully away from him and the officer who had escorted them, politely and firmly, outside the Juneau airport.

"Come on, Gus, it's like you don't even _care_ that we saved a woman's life!"

"You could have saved her life without getting us banned from airline travel for the rest of our lives."

"Really? How do you propose I do that, exactly?"

"You could have _not_ locked one of the flight attendants in the bathroom."

"But she was in on it!"

"You could have told one of the other attendants. You could have told a police officer before we got on the flight. You could have warned the woman not to drink her poisoned drink."

"Well, hindsight is fifty-fifty. I don't remember you having any of these great ideas while we were on the plane."

"I said all of these. Repeatedly."

"Huhn." Shawn stopped following Gus for a second, until the officer behind them cleared his throat and got him walking again. "Maybe I should get my ears checked."

"Your ears are fine, Shawn, you just don't listen to anything you don't want to hear."

"Thanks, Gus, I am pretty great."

Gus rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door of a cab. "Hello, can you take us to the ferry terminal?"

"Really?" Shawn interjected. "You think we're going to have better luck on a ferry than on a plane? Do you not remember our track record with those?"

"Without flying, our only choice is to ferry to Bellingham and catch a train, unless you want to drive the whole way."

"Why do you just know that?"

"Why do you not?"

"Look, buddy, you getting in or what?" the cab driver asked. "Because I'm starting the meter. If you want to run your mouth off it's on your time."

"Get in the damn cab, Shawn."

-

Look, it wasn't Shawn's fault that the drive was using his cab to move drugs across the city, like some kind of mobile crime headquarters, okay?

At least they got most of the way to the ferry terminal before Shawn pointed out the many, frankly insultingly obvious, clues about this fact and got them booted out. _And_ they didn't have to pay the meter, since the cabbie drove off like a bat out of hell was chasing him.

Gus did not appreciate Shawn pointing out this silver lining. Nor did he speak to Shawn for the two mile walk to the terminal, even when Shawn reminded him that he'd just the other day said he needed to work more cardio into his daily routine.

-

"Sorry," the woman at the counter told them. "The next ferry doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."

"Could we work something out?" Shawn asked. "Find some sort of...arrangement?" He waved his hands meaningfully.

"Are you...trying to bribe me?"

Apparently not meaningful enough. "Don't be absurd. I have nothing to bribe you with because I own nothing of value."

The woman looked at Gus. "Is he really bragging about that?"

"Ignore him," Gus said. "Is there any way you could get us going sooner? We really need to get back to the continental US."

"Look, there's nothing I could do, even if you _were_ going to make it worth my while. There isn't a boat to put you on. And there won't be until tomorrow morning."

Shawn sighed. "All right. Is there at least a hotel nearby we could stay at, or -- "

"No, Shawn," Gus interrupted. "We are not leaving this building. I am not risking something else going wrong and missing the ferry tomorrow. Because with you, something _always_ goes wrong. We are staying right here until we get on that ferry."

"Actually," the woman at the counter piped up. "We close in ten minutes, so you have to leave."

Gus gave her one of his nearly-manic fake smiles. "Is there a hotel nearby we could stay at?"

-

"Look on the bright side," Shawn said. "The vending machine has Crystal Pepsi in it."

"I don't even want to think about when the last time that machine was serviced," Gus grumbled.

"Fine, more two decade old candy and soda for me," Shawn said, sitting down with his spoils -- a perhaps uncomfortably appropriate word for the vending machine purchases he had made -- on the bed nearer to the door, since Gus had already lain down, fully clothed, on the other bed.

The mattress made a sound that was definitely not a squeak. Shawn tried not to think about what exactly that meant. "Come on, Gus. In the old days you would have freaked out about messing up your schedule because of work, and while I can't say I understand that, I can at least respect it."

"You never respected my need to keep a regular schedule at work."

"I said I could respect it, Gus, not that I did." Shawn unwrapped a 3 Musketeers bar. The chocolate was _grey_. He shrugged and took a bite. "Oh, that -- that was a bad idea." He stuck his tongue out, not so much spitting out the chocolate as letting it fall out of his mouth.

Now it was on his bed. He could move it to the trash can, but that would mean touching it. He wasn't sure that was a good idea, or even a safe one.

Gus snorted. "Told you so."

"Can't you have a little human compassion for a man who has been betrayed by a chocolate bar? That is the ultimate low blow. If a man can't trust Mars Incorporated, who can he trust?"

"Sorry, Shawn." Gus did not sound sorry at all. "But it's a beautiful thing when people get their comeuppance."

"Gus," Shawn whined. "Can't you at least tell me what's up with this obsessive need of yours to get home by Friday? You have the power to take my mind off my mental anguish."

"I can't talk, Shawn, I'm sleeping." Gus rolled over onto his side.

"You're _anguishing_ me, Gus!"

Gus snored. Very unconvincingly.

"I hope that the ferry sinks and we're in the water and I find a door to lay on that's big enough for two people but I won't let you on anyway for some inexplicable reason," Shawn muttered.

-

Gus's dire prognostications to the contrary, they made it back to the ferry terminal and were on the boat and underway with absolutely no snafus.

Shawn thought he really deserved some praise for that, or at least a pat on the back and a hearty thank you. But did Gus deliver? No, it was all "stop finding criminals everywhere, Shawn" and "I don't want to dress up as a ferry employee and sneak into people's rooms, Shawn" and "the killer is chasing me with a knife and this is all your fault, Shawn!"

Some people just wouldn't know gratitude if it bit them on their nose that they touch too much with their thumbs when they're pretending to be cool.

And really, this one was all on Gus. He was the one who recognized one of the passengers, a supposedly mild mannered recluse named Sage Brocklebank, was actually Sam Yelnats, notorious Canadian murderer who was currently wanted for a double homicide in the Yukon.

"I'm still amazed that they have double homicides in Canada," Shawn mused, as they sat catching their breath outside the room where Yelnats was now handcuffed and awaiting delivery to police in Bellingham. "It goes completely against their image."

"I'm still amazed that you didn't recognize him from the news," Gus said. "His picture's been everywhere."

"Please, Gus, I'm not keeping up on the news. I'm on vacation."

"Oh yeah? And what's your excuse for the last fifteen years of not reading newspapers?"

"Print news is dead, Gus, everyone knows that."

"Speak for yourself, Shawn, I happen to enjoy my crossword. Almost as much as I enjoy _not being chased around by murderers with knives_."

"Are you still complaining about that?"

"It just happened half an hour ago! And it shouldn't have happened at all. I thought if we learned anything from our Pierre Despereaux debacles, it was to leave criminal extradition to the proper authorities."

"Gus, if we learned anything from Pierre Despereaux, or should I say Royston Cornwallis Staley, or should I say Pierre Despereaux, it's that we didn't learn anything at all."

Gus snorted. "I hear that."

"I'm just saying," Shawn continued, "if you don't want me to catch a killer, you maybe shouldn't point out that there's a killer right under my nose."

"I thought the preposterously fake name would have given it away."

"Yeah, he's not the smartest fugitive from the law I've ever caught."

" _We've_ caught."

"Oh, are you a team player again? Am I welcoming you back into the fold? Should I slaughter the fatted calf?"

Gus gave him the side eye. "Get me home by Friday and we'll see," he said, and flounced off.

-

The next snag was _completely not Shawn's fault_.

Really, how could he possibly be held personally responsible for the fact that the train tracks were undergoing construction, and they had to catch a bus to Tacoma before they could get on the train?

Seriously, Gus, that was taking it a little far.

It could, conceivably, be considered Shawn's fault that they missed the bus because he chased after a purse snatcher, dragging Gus along with him, but _come on, Gus, how cool would it be if we caught a purse snatcher?_

Gus totally wouldn't have been mad if they'd been the ones to catch the purse snatcher, instead of that one super burly linebacker dude. Shawn decided he would leave out that part when he told the story in the future.

"Okay, I know you're mad about the bus thing, _but_ , I found a solution."

"Is it me dumping your sorry ass and making my own way home?"

"Don't be silly, we're practically married. Although, did you know California doesn't recognize common law marriages?"

"I did know that." Gus squinted at him suspiciously. "Why did _you_ know that?"

"I looked into it one time. Unimportant. Forget I said anything. What you should focus on is how I totally solved our problem."

"How, exactly?"

"I found some people who are going to give us a ride."

Gus had a dubious look on his face, but he did at least follow Shawn, which Shawn supposed could count as giving his plan a chance.

That abruptly changed when he saw the vehicle in question.

"Hell, no, Shawn."

"Oh come on, it's perfect for us!"

"I am not getting in that van."

"It seats seven and with us, that makes seven."

"I'm not worried about the seating, Shawn. I'm worried about the paint job."

"That's surprisingly judgmental of you. I figured if it were really that important to you to get home on time, you wouldn't turn your nose up at a perfect valid form of transportation just because it happens to be a little garish."

"We aren't talking about aesthetics, we are talking about a van that's been custom painted to look like the Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo."

"Which is exactly why it's so awesome!"

"I am putting my foot down." Gus lifted and stomped his right foot.

"You don't have to literally put your foot down when you say that. Especially not if you're standing on that foot and you have to lift it up to put it down."

"I'm emphasizing my point, Shawn." Gus stomped his foot again. "I am not hitchhiking with people who think Scooby Doo is an acceptable life plan."

"Right, because that's such a reach for us."

"Because the _best case_ scenario is that we get slowed down by them pulling over to solve a mystery every ten minutes -- "

"Which would be _awesome_ , by the way."

"Which would _guarantee_ that I do not make it home by Friday. And the worst case scenario is that they take us off to be programmed into their freaky little cult and the next time we see our loved ones is in ten years from now when we only answer to the names 'Fred' and 'Shaggy'."

Shawn made a pensive face. "Am I Shaggy or are you Shaggy?"

" _You're_ Shaggy."

"That's fair."

"Come on," Gus said, walking away from the Mystery Machine. "There's got to be someone else who's heading to Tacoma."

Shawn followed, but not before one last, lingering look at the Mystery Machine, imagining what might have been.

-

"Dude," Shawn said, loud and pumped. "I can't believe you picked _biker gang_ over Mystery Machine! You are fearless! You are unstoppable! You are -- "

"About to throw up," Gus said, and dashed off for the gas station bathroom.

The bikers around Shawn laughed. "First time on a motorcycle?" the big guy who'd introduced himself as Tank asked.

"Sadly, no," Shawn answered. "And yet he does that _every time_."

The sixty-year-old woman with dreadlocks who was clearly the group's leader shook her head. "If Upchuck there spews on my bike, you're walking the rest of the way to Tacoma."

"That's fair," Shawn agreed, then, as Gus exited the bathroom, "dude, you have a biker name!"

"Right," Gus said, before blanching and dashing back to the bathroom.

"Do I get a biker name?" Shawn asked excited. "Something cool, like -- Laser. Backtalk. Oh! I could be -- " he panned with his hands, building suspense, and said in a cool, low voice, "The Mailman."

"You're Nose," the leader told him.

Shawn sighed. "Every time. Every time."

-

"All right," Shawn said, hanging up his phone. "We are on the train. The train has departed the station. Juliet knows our arrival time and will be there to pick us up immediately after we disembark." He stopped. "Do you say disembark if it's a train, or only if it's a boat?"

"I don't care," Gus said. "I just want to get home on time. I am in the zone. Nothing else is allowed to go wrong."

"Dude, you don't care about semantics? Do you have a fever or something?"

"No." Gus closed his eyes and started doing Lamaze breathing.

Shawn reached over to put the back of his hand against Gus's forehead.

"Would you -- stop that! Get off." A heated slap fight ensued, which Shawn promptly lost. But Gus did stop doing his weird pregnancy de-stress routine, so overall Shawn felt pretty good about life.

"Look, Gus, the end is in sight. We are going to make it. And you know what, ultimately, I think this was a positive experience for us. Really brought us closer together as men. We've endured a lot of things on this trip, some good, some bad, some wildly dangerous -- "

"You're the one who wanted to try that vending machine candy."

" -- and I think I've earned the truth from you. What is so golly danged important about Friday that you absolutely have to be home for?"

Gus looked at Shawn for a minute before nodding, like he'd made a decision. "You're right, Shawn. You've done your best. So I'll tell you. I -- "

Shawn leaned forward, ready for the good part, the juicy details, the gory secret his partner had been keeping from him.

" -- have a dentist appointment."

Shawn blinked.

And blinked again.

Had time enough to remember:

Every word Henry had ever said about reading a lie on someone's face.

Every tell from every poker game he'd ever played with Gus.

Every time Gus had tried to lie to him, transparent as each one of those attempts had been.

Gus was telling the truth.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Shawn yelled.

The other passengers in the compartment shushed him. Gus smacked him on the back of the head. None of that deterred him from whispering, heatedly, "I've been putting up with all of your whining and moaning all week, I gave up riding with the living incarnation of the Scooby Gang, because you had this _important secret_ , and it was just a dentist appointment?"

"I thought you said that this had been a positive experience after all."

"Obviously I was wrong about that! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There is nothing wrong with me. Dental hygiene is very important, Shawn."

"I do not _believe you_ ," Shawn hissed. He thought about getting up and leaving, maybe pulling the emergency brake, but he wasn't sure if there was a No Ride list and he didn't really think he should get himself banned from two major forms of long distance transportation in the same week. "Here I thought you had a real issue, and this is just your stupid tooth obsession."

"I'm not _obsessed_ with my teeth."

"You are. You're so obsessed that if your teeth were a teenage girl you'd be Edward Cullen. And it's _your_ fault I know that reference. You and your sick, twisted need to go to the dentist all the time."

"It is not sick and twisted. You're _supposed_ to go to the dentist every six months."

Shawn rolls his eyes. "Oh, like _that's_ a thing. What a scam. I haven't been to a dentist in seven years and I'm just fine."

"Don't even smile at me with those rotting teeth of yours. They don't deserve to be in the same train car as my teeth. My teeth are so clean you could eat off of them."

"Only if the place settings were microscopic. You know how hard it is to find good china at that size?"

"It's an expression, Shawn."

"Well, it's a stupid one. Is this like a _Honey I Shrunk the Kids_ scenario? Because any situation that involves me being shrunk down small enough to eat off a man's bicuspid, the first thing I'm going to do is _not_ go into a living creatures mouth. That's Survival Instincts For Shrink Rays 101."

"Stop taking the metaphor to its logical conclusion."

"You know you can reschedule a doctor's appointment, right?"

"The true hallmark of a gentleman is his commitment to his appointments," Gus said primly. Sometimes Shawn honestly didn't know how his best friend existed. "I said I would be there, so it behooves me to be there."

"I'll behoove you," Shawn muttered. "I'll behoove you with an actual Hoover. Vacuum cleaner, dam, J Edgar, whichever I get my hands on first."

"J Edgar Hoover's been dead since 1972."

"You have a lot of nerve guilt tripping me about a dentist appointment," Shawn said. "Here I was, thinking you had a hot date or something -- "

A quick look of excitement passed over Gus's face.

Shawn sighed. "All right, what's her name?"

Gus made that face that he thought was surreptitious. "Who?"

"The hottie at your dentist's office that you mistakenly think you can woo through punctuality and a steadfast refusal to reschedule. Is it the dentist? The receptionist? It isn't another patient that you carefully match your appointments up with, is it? Because that's a really good way to end up with a restraining order -- "

Gus slapped his arm. "It's the dental hygienist," he said, then scowled when he realized Shawn had gotten him to admit to it. "Her name is _Gloria_. And she is glorious." He sighed.

"Great," Shawn said, because he could tell when a long dreamy diatribe about a woman was coming his way and he hoped to forestall it. "Let me guess, five foot two, soulful brown eyes, loose curls of hair that cascade down her back like a chocolate waterfall -- "

"You are not going to pretend to psychically read this woman, Shawn," Gus snapped. "And her eyes are green."

"Excuse me," the man in front of them turned around to talk to them over the back of his chair. "Are you two going to be like this the _entire ride_?"

"Yes," Shawn and Gus said in perfect unison.

Half the compartment rose from their seats, but before anyone could go anywhere, they heard a shriek from the door to the next compartment, and a woman yelled, "The conductor's been murdered!"

"Goodbye, Gloria," Gus sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> I know approximately nothing about the Juneau-Bellingham ferry or the No Fly list, so, you know, grain of salt.
> 
> If you like this fic, you can [reblog it on tumblr!](http://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/147506707210/planes-trains-and-mystery-mobiles)


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